“Thank you,” Houston whispered, and I smiled. It was nothing. “You have to see a doctor.”
“Winners don’t need doctors.” She pointed to my left shoulder; a flower of blood emerged on my shirt. That’s not true, just Travelers’ tricks. I won the fight.
The walls of the cave shifted, receding farther and farther away, disappearing in a mist of red. I felt a tickling commotion in my brain, alien sensations from a past I never had, the touch of wind in my hair; then I felt nothing.
The cart was moving slowly, yet every movement kicked inside my brain, and memories arose like haunting ghosts. I could not see much from inside; a piece of blue sky, and the wooden margins of the container. I tried to adjust my position, and something was wrong. “Batranu!” Two heads swiftly appeared on the edge: Batranu and Altamira. The dress, I remembered and blushed. She smiled as if indulging an inoffensive kid.
“Welcome back. What’s wrong?” She felt that something was not going well.
“I can’t move my left arm; I can’t feel my left arm. I can’t...” Her hand touched my arm. I felt nothing.
“It’s cold,” she whispered.
Batranu took my arm and raised it; then flexed it around my elbow. “Nothing?”
“Nothing. I suppose I had a stroke, a late effect of that bloody ‘spell’.” I hope it is only a stroke. Please be just a stroke, a small one, I pleaded.
“Really late, one week has passed,” he added. One week. I had no voice to protest.
“We’ve sent riders to ask the Erins for help,” Altamira added, and she took my hand, my right hand. I felt the warmth coming from her voice, from her palm, and I unconsciously gripped her fingers, with the strength of a dying man looking upon his salvation. She flinched from the pain I inflicted but said nothing.
I revised their medical knowledge with Ency. They have good doctors… They are too far in the past. “I don’t know who can really help me.”
“Batranu!” His head hushed over the cart. “Smell my hand.”
“What…”
“Smell my hand, my left hand.” He reluctantly lifted my stiff palm.
“Nothing bad…” I saw his fingers going up and down over my arm. Eh? “No bad smell, yet something…” Yet… I involuntarily mimicked him inside. “Your flesh is rigid and swollen. But there are no signs of gangrene,” he swiftly added.
“Neither is this the effect of a stroke. I feel this wooden hand like a brick in my ribs when turning.”
“The Erins…”
“The Erins are a Stone Age tribe.”
“Don’t underestimate Houston’s information. They are really special.”
“Where is Houston now?”
*
Next morning we passed the Maris River; in the evening we crossed over the bridge, marching between the two tall towers overlooking the land. Maug was probably already in Dava – he had left us hours earlier at a gallop – and there were only five miles from the towers to the city on the top of the hill, its white, red and orange colors already visible. But I had no eyes for the view. The name of the river ‘Maris’ was bothering me; another gap in my knowledge and another puzzle. Maris was also the name of a Dacian river, as was the other local river, Alutus. It was becoming harder for me to distinguish our history from this new world. The fact of it being our open prison did not help either.
Dava
Dava had no walls; worlds without wars do not need strong defenses or totalitarian regimes. Anyone who wanted to could bypass the gate and the ceremonial guards, simply by walking a few yards. The gate, I had many pictures of it, red stones, large, impressive, similar in its architecture to the Porta Nigra. A picture is worth a thousand words; one view reveals more than a thousand pictures. The human eye is born for details, for depth and for imagination. We now had an escort, riders in red and yellow garments, and my cart was replaced by a carriage with Draco flags. The city was prepared for funerals; we delivered a resurrection. News was sent by the Munti before our encounter with Duras: the volcano had killed everybody. It was not foul play; few things remain from people trapped inside lava. My eyes ran around, feeling the architecture; buildings reflect peoples’ minds, they reveal desires and hope, even alien ones have stories to tell you.
Our house was in the middle of the city close to the Royal Castle. The castle emerged between branches of olive-like trees, and further on, the lake occupied half of my vista. Above the lake’s evening mists, the glittering whiteness of the still snowy peaks rose up further before being completely lost in the horizon. It was a magnificent spring day, with the bright end-of-April sun mixing contours and colors so heavily that ghostly details merged together in the far away. My house ... at the end of the universe, a suppressed hint of excitement and pride welled up from deep inside. Awareness left me alone, the danger was no more, no marauders, no SAT-mines, no wooden hand, feelings erupted... I am home... I need not fear. I glanced around with blind eyes. Yes, I am home. Earth... Earth is dead.
*
The window was open: sunshine, noise and bustling of the mid day. A cart passed by, the wheels beating the stones of the street in cadence: toc, toc… Time cadence… Toc, toc… The wheels of time. The wheels of fate… Toc, toc… Rolling from one second to another. Toc, toc… Draining our lives… Toc, toc... It was the third day after my left leg stiffened. Toc, toc… Half of me went away; my body was slowly betraying me, and my mind was gradually saturated with fear. Toc, toc… I was no more than a cripple staying day and night in the house, afraid of dreaming; my inner world was like a beast waiting to devour me from inside. Toc, toc… My house ... at the end of the universe. My prison … my coffin. Toc, toc…
“All the cadets want to meet you,” Maug tried to make me feel better. “You are their hero; they all dream of learning how to fight Duras.”
“What do they want to see? A cripple? I am not a menagerie exhibit, to be paraded to young boys.” I will be a cripple all my life...
“Warriors get wounded in fights, and their wounds are the mark of valor. The cadets are young and in need of models to follow. I was thinking…” Maug was as stubborn as well intentioned. He pushed me to react in a proper manner, trying to revive some bits of life in me. Behave, he doesn’t deserve this. I sighed, a wave of shame killing the feeling of being a useless cripple.
“I am sorry; I know there was nothing wrong in your words. I just can’t stop myself.” To kill myself, I continued inside. Maybe I shall make good use of what remains of my life.
“Maug told me about a nice inn: good food, good wine, just a few steps from here,” Batranu tried to change the mood. “You can use the cane, I am sure you will manage it.” A cane ... maybe I can. Yes, you can even dance...
They convinced me to leave the house late, when my shame of using a cane would be covered by darkness. “In the inn, they will be already drunk,” Maug smiled. “We can follow them.” It was not meant to be; the darkness filled my mind with nightmares before the night could come.
“Please have a seat,” I said to the small bald man, and he reluctantly took the chair. “It is a sad day my dear colleague, nothing displeases me more than firing people but, I had no other choice. You ... don’t fit in our team, and we have a wonderful team. You hired your wife, your brother, your nephews, three of them. I hope you understand; it is nothing personal, just … you really don’t fit in our team. Don’t touch that golf club.” I smiled at him. The small, bald man became nervous and smaller, then even smaller, until he vanished completely in his chair. What a nice morning.
The real morning, almost noon, came with sun and headaches, and the memory of my last dream; it was not a nightmare, merely something to cling to. When the housekeeper entered, I was laughing alone at the bald head, getting smaller and smaller, in my dream. I wish I could do the same in my real life.
“Well, good morning.” Surprise was visible on her face; she was expecting a different view. “It’s noon; the lunch is ready. You were too lazy for breakfast; I will punish you w
ith a stuffed duck. This will teach you something.” The duck was excellent, and I slept again an hour later.
“Mother, you here?” I recognized Altamira’s voice. I am still dreaming. Don’t ask her to take her clothes off.
“Well, Aldira convinced me to have a closer look at your new companion.” I am not dreaming.
“Mother!”
“Come on, she was right, a handsome young man.” I am dreaming. “And a good warrior. She told me about a strange mind pattern; I feel nothing.”
“She is right. Was. I think the wound erased his mental patterns.”
“A strange wound, as strange as the things you and Aldira told me. What a pity. We have the best warrior ever in our hands, only to lose him.” I hope I am dreaming.
“Mother!”
“We are deep in his debt, but this will change nothing. I am sorry; you do not know the latest news. Your riders could not find Armin; he is on a mission in Nogi land. Do not ask me what mission; I do not know. A dangerous step, so it must be something important.”
“He is not the best healer.”
“The best healer never leaves the Erins’ land, and you know well why. There are only five Erins allowed to come into Dava; you know this as well. Allowed by them, not by us. The other four are not healers. Do not cry. One of them will be here soon. A young man named Rholes; of course, young for their standards. I do not have much hope.” I am not dreaming. Maybe the Erin… You heard her: no hope, What more do you want?
*
Altamira entered my room followed by a stranger wrapped in a hooded cloak. The hood fell and another Altamira was there, an older one. I am dreaming again. I closed my eyes; the dream disappeared. I am not dreaming. Do I see double? The second one is older. Maybe I am still dreaming. I am too tired for another talk.
“He passed out,” Altamira whispered. Go away!
“No, he is awake,” vaguely familiar, a second voice answered. Must be her adult voice. Stop it! There is no ‘adult’ Altamira. “Don’t be afraid.” She took my head between her palms, and warmth filled my temples. “Don’t resist,” she gently added.
“Who are you?”
“That’s not important now; we will meet again later, and I will answer all your questions. Now, be quiet.” The warmth spread further, and pain followed. I moaned.
“Don’t worry,” Altamira took my hand, my right hand, the one still alive. I clung to her palm.
“I will die.”
“No, you will not, your role here has just started.” The mature voice was too sure to be real. I am dreaming.
“I want to go home.”
“This is your home,” Altamira whispered gently – the young one. My home… You have no idea…
“There is not much time left, the wound is more dangerous than you think; it is a strange alteration inside his brain, and I think I know who could have done it. I have to make him unconscious; there is too much fear inside his mind.” She touched my eyelids. “Sleep now.” And all was gone.
I woke up with a headache – a bearable one. Head in hands, I tried to think. Did I dream? There was no one else in the room. I massaged my head. There is no one here. I dreamt. For sure I… I froze. My hand… I was massaging my head with my left hand, the crippled one. My hand… My hand is… I did not dream. My leg… I threw the blanket. My leg looked normal. I pinched it. I feel… My leg is healed; I have no more pain. “My leg is healed!” I cried and jumped out from bed and danced onto the floor. The door opened and Altamira entered. Before she could talk, I asked her to dance with me.
“No, no,” she whispered laughing. “You have to rest, back into bed. You’ll catch a cold.” I glanced down and saw my underwear. I blushed, and sneaked back under the blanket. She went out still laughing.
Batranu entered the door a half hour later. “Where have you been? Look!” I jumped around the table, not before having a glance to check my clothes; I was fully dressed.
“They sent me out before the Erins came. A good job, I see.”
“They were not Erins, it was Altamira.”
“A woman entered the house with Altamira, they both stayed around one hour, and they left together. After a while Altamira returned, and I heard your voice shouting something about dancing.” My face went red. “I don’t know why this sudden color change, but the sounds you made killed my awareness. A guard discovered me, and sent me away; I lost the rest.”
“Did you see her face? The other woman.”
“My skills don’t penetrate through hoods.”
“Any chrono-particles?”
“Nothing, all clean. You have your own neural device now.”
“What do we really know about the gadgets inserted inside our brains? The second woman was Altamira, a version of her coming from the future, around twenty years older. No chrono-particles were involved. And she knew who did the job with my brain. She told me nothing … she was not speaking to me,” I hastily added. “She only said she knows who. What do you think?”
“You are healed, and we need better gadgets.”
I asked Altamira about her older version; and all I could get was: “You will meet her later.” I took it as a proof that I would survive another twenty years on that planet. In the end, things were a bit different than I thought.
*
“The tailor is here!” a voice shouted from the street. Go away; I am sleeping. “The tailor is here!” What tailor? I am not expecting any tailor. A knock on the door killed my sleep.
“The man is looking for us.” Batranu entered.
I opened the window. “Yeah, he looks like a tailor.” Two young boys were carrying some tools and fabric samples. “We are strangers,” I spoke to the nervous small man looking like a tailor. “We...”
“Order from the King.” His voice went up proudly. “I have to prepare you for the ceremony.” If you say so. “I am the King’s tailor.” He was no longer sure about us.
“I know, I know. Please come up.”
The small tailor had a big mouth. He measured us from his first step in the house. “Ah, it is a pleasure to dress tall people like you.” Are you joking? “The tunic folds much better from high and large shoulders.” He walked around Batranu measuring and mumbling. “Black works perfectly with white hair. You need a haircut. Yes, I shall ask the barber to come here too.” Batranu was biting his lip; I went straight to the window to ... look out. “So, we agree sir, black suiting and ... hmm, you have strong hands.” He grabbed Batranu’s hand and flexed it. “This is not possible.” He flexed the fingers this time. “Come here,” he told a boy, and took his fingers too. “Weird ... you have the hands of a ... nevermind. A dark red collar?”
“Yes ... sir,” Batranu whispered through laughter. Don’t laugh, the mouthed tailor has a sharp mind... What world is this?
“Clothes are like mirrors; they must reflect your soul, your mind, your desires. They come to me: please do this, please do that. They have no idea; you cannot dress a crow like a falcon. No sir, it doesn’t work that way. Please do not think that it is easy.”
“I am sure it is not.” I repressed my own amusement, still wondering that he pierced the mask of the 168-year-old man. Would you pass this to others?
“Let’s see,” he turned to me. “Young, but not so young.” He scratch his head for a while, then gazed into my eyes. “You saw many shades... No, not enough for white or black, you are not there yet, you still have things to learn. You are good with the sword, I heard ... dark red tunic for you. And you like books ... yellow shirt, only a hint of yellow, to show your status.” What the hell are you? Tailor? Or secret service agent? “No more yellow powder than a girl’s teat in a bucket of milk.” The boys blushed. “Look at them, they don’t know about girls’ teats yet.” He poked the boys. “Do you agree sir?” He was measuring with the same speed as talking.
“With the nipples?”
“No sir, we are men, we always agree on them. No need to argue. With the colors.”
“Yes ... sir. I
agree.”
“Good, I will come in two days for a fitting. Don’t worry; they will be ready in time.”
“I am sure of that.” He smiled, satisfied, as he left the room.
“Welcome to Dava.” Airan’s voice was smiling; he and Altamira had just crossed paths with the tailor.
“A city full of artists and colors.”
“It’s spring, people come back to life.” Altamira was smiling too. “And they like new things. The ceremony is in three days from now.”
“We like them too.” I like ceremonies as you like hell.
“Your clothes will be ready in time.” My instinctive frown was misunderstood. “Not that they really count, your own traveling garments are full of stories to tell the Court.”
“I think we just had the first assessment here,” Batranu said after the door closed. I nodded in silence.
*
The meeting was ceremonial and boring; I did not like being presented to hundreds of people staring at the exotic exhibit in the menagerie and whispering: He is a mix. Do they have Munti there? Strange mind pattern. ... They need some proper clothes. Yes, they are dressed like savages. Maybe they are all savages in the south... For political reasons we decided to go with our old travelers stuff. Altamira was right; they told stories. Doesn't look like a warrior to me... He is too tall. He is too short... The young one looks good; maybe we should present our daughter... The old one is so old… Cherry on the cake, I made a mistake presenting myself to the King. Instead of saying “I am”, I said “I”, followed by the name, a thing reserved for the royal family. In their language I is spoken Io, another word coming from Dacian language, another mystery. Later, a long list of enemies transformed my name into Io Deceneus, a caricature of noble address, and a subtle reminder of my gaffe before the King; my 'real' name, coming from the south, was simply forgotten.
“What are you expecting?” Batranu gave me a friendly nudge in my ribs. “Royal courts are as political as parliaments or governments.” I remembered Houston saying that she needed to further calibrate the politician in me, but I did not think that she would.
Io Deceneus: Journal of a Time Traveler (The Living Universe) Page 18
